I just got off the phone with my older sister. Her Birthday is today, but if I tell you her age she will kill me. Even though she is young and insanely beautiful, she would somehow feel old seeing her age immortalized on the web.

She mentioned to me that anyone who is over the age of 16 shouldn’t celebrate their birthdays. Now, before you all get riled up and pull out the pitchforks and torches to blast this taboo notion that adults don’t deserve birthdays, she didn’t really mean it that way. More a tongue and cheek comment that the older you get, the less importance should be placed on this yearly ritual.

But I am a MEGA BIRTHDAY person. I cannot help it. I LOVE BIRTHDAYS. I love everything about them. I love having a whole day about me, where I get to do…whatever I want to do. I love having a special dinner, special outfit, and to top it all off, after a whole day of “specialness,” I get to have cake!! And if that isn’t enough I get presents too!! More wonderfulness!! Such a spoiled privilege that I like to indulge in.

But my sister is just not that way, and that’s ok. That is what makes her, well, her. So, what is the point of this Birthday blog ramble? Where is the “best” that the title announces, and how does it fit into this writing?

I am not sure.

I basically want to take a few paragraphs – ON my sister’s ACTUAL birthday – to tell the world how wonderful she is. Because, isn’t this the day where you can do that?

Where do I begin, without sounding like too much of an idolizing, weirdo fan, and more like the endearing little sister who looks up to, and is inspired by, her? Well, I can only squeeze in a few memories and qualities, before this ends up being a novel instead of a blog post, so here goes:

My sister is Amazing. Yup, she is my rock. I cannot begin to express to you the depth of my love and friendship for her. For as long as I can remember, I wanted to be just like her. No Joke. Still do. When we were about six and nine we both auditioned for Missoula Children’s Theater Company. She, being the natural actress, was immediately chosen and got a part. I, being the not-so-natural actress, cried the entire audition and was not chosen. All the people who were picked were asked to stay, and if you were not picked you were allowed to go. I was confused and didn’t know what to do. My sister, who has always been my champion, asked the directors if her sister could sit with her while they talked to all of the selected kids. She didn’t want me to feel left out or embarrassed. And I wasn’t, because I felt more special sitting with her than getting picked. And you know what? The following year she coached me with some tips on how to do better, and I got my first acting part!

She is also super cool! She has such an artistic knack for style that I can’t ever seem to get just right. She recently cut her hair. So I did too. She showed me a new makeup product, and I went out and bought it. She and I have come up with our own language that even the nerdiest people would cringe at. I can tell her anything and she won’t judge me. And if she does, she has good reason and usually good advice to follow. She is extremely caring, loving and generous. During my fertility journey I cannot tell you how much she helped us, emotionally, psychologically, and even in some cases, financially, without ever expecting anything in return. She is a nurse like no other. She has compassion towards every living creature, and her soul seems to recognize when a person is feeling at the their most vulnerable and can put them at ease with a simple shoulder pat, calm words, or a gentle glance. She is raising two wonderful kids, and when I watch her with them, I can’t help but see us, ourselves, children again, in them. I love knowing that pieces of our souls are running around outside our bodies.

She’s also been there with me in my darkest of dark hours. She has fallen down in the abyss with me, guided me so I wouldn’t completely crash, and has helped me pick up the shattered pieces. During the dark days of Tyr’s diagnosis, she was there with me, holding my hand while the ultra sound tech kept revealing more and more bad news. As I lay there sobbing on the table, she stayed strong and asked the questions I couldn’t. But when I glanced out of the corner of my eye, her chin was quivering and tears were in her eyes. She was there, in the darkness with me too, and was choosing to stay until I was ready to go.

The days following his passing were a blur, but somehow my sister made it okay. She had the daunting task of cheering me up when I knew she was devastated too. We both hugged each other and sobbed, then laughed about the amount of snot one person can produce, and proceeded to order Chinese food and do manicures and pedicures.

Only sisters know this kind of bliss.

I wanted to write this about my sister because I don’t think she gives herself enough credit. She does all these amazing things for people, and never expects anything in return. This may not be a reward, or her picture in the newspaper, but maybe this little bit of recognition on my itty bitty blog about my best friend will give her that much deserved Birthday Moment. So to all of you out there who are reading this, know that there is this person on the earth, who is amazing, and is my sister.

So Erica, Happy Birthday. May you remember this moment of how important you are to me, and how even though you think it is silly, you deserve to have this one day where the world shines upon you!

“A sister is a little bit of childhood that can never be lost”

– Marion C. Garretty

Today is one month since I lost my second son. One month. There is that saying that time heals everything, and eventually you “move on,” and live again.

This is partly true. I will never move on from his death, nor Cora’s death, or even the first miscarriage I had during my first pregnancy. No, you don’t move on, you move with. My love and grief for my lost children don’t stay at the train depot like a lost suitcase. Instead, they are carried with me during my journey back home. Eventually the baggage gets lighter, maybe offloading parts of it I won’t use anymore, but it is never gone. It is always there, a part of me that I will someday not look at as much.

The hard part about moving on is that the person who suffers the loss, tragedy, or trauma never can really reconcile what has happened, but slowly, the people, and the world around them, go back to their lives, leaving the sufferer to find a new normal.

It is tough, and I am doing my best right now to pick up the pieces. I had an epiphany in my kitchen the other day. I was looking out the window at the bird feeder I made for Tyr before he died and started to weep. I realized that part of my despair comes from trying to make sense out of something that will NEVER make sense. I know it sounds simple, but realizing that there was no answer or hidden secret that I could discover about why these things happened to me gave me a small sense of peace.

There is no reasoning with nature. These things really do just happen, and it sucks, but it is the next step in the grief process.

There are two choices. “Bug out,” as my sister would call it and fall down the dark rabbit hole, OR, put on my big girl panties and choose to live a joyous life. And that is what I intend to do. Despite the darkness, sadness and despair, there is still light amongst the trees, and my husband and son are wonderful reminders of this.

SO, I decided that I wanted to have a great Birthday. And I did. It was WONDERFUL. No, I didn’t win the lottery, and I didn’t lose that extra 15 lbs overnight (However, that would have been wonderful). But I did get to eat great food, shop guilt free with gift cards, and spend the day with people who make me feel special.

Did I think about Tyr and Cora? Yes.

Was my heart feeling heavy? Of course. I thought many times how I should be 20 weeks pregnant and buying cute maternity clothes, and instead I am stuck with my “in-between” wardrobe until my body remembers it’s not pregnant anymore.

But I was able to carry them with me through the day a little lighter and in a little safer place.

I will say that looking back on all the birthdays I have had, this one was one of the best. Because it really cannot get any better than eating pizza while sitting next to the two deepest loves of my life.

Thank you for reading. I will be very interested to see what next year’s birthday will be like.

*Birthday Celebration number two happened today! It was more a combined Birthday between my sister and myself. Hubby, Idan and I went to the Cheesecake Factory and spoiled ourselves with yummy food. Also we spent lots of time with family and with Idan’s cousins and had a BLAST!!* I am lucky to have an amazing life*

Idan at the moment:

The boy can run!! I am getting the best workout bouncing around my house, dodging corners, and jumping over toys. He is fast. My 32 year old feet cannot keep up, and scream bloody murder when they step on a Lego. Man those things hurt.

He is really tall. Like 88th Percentile tall. Where he got that, I have no idea. He will be the tallest Hobbit in the shire.

He still cuddles in my bed every morning, and I call him my Koala Baby. My soul hums in harmony every time he nestles under my neck.

I cannot muster up the right words to adequately describe my feelings. So I am going to make this shortly written with some excerpts from one of my favorite books, Wherever you are, my love will find you.

Tyr Jude Humphrey entered and left this world April 25th, 2014 at 9:00 A.M. I was 16 weeks. He was loved, wanted, cherished and beautiful.

I’m struggling to write this because my fingers keep shaking on the keys and I am having to use my sleeve to wipe my eyes.

I am tragically heartbroken.

His name is more of a symbol and reminder of who he was. Several weeks back while my husband and I were on a walk talking about the sad news that was just given to us about our baby, he looked at me and said he had a name for him.

“Tyr” he said.

Why that name I wondered. He then told me of the Norse story of Tyr who was courageous and honorable and had sacrificed his right arm, and because of this he was always remembered in glory.

One of our son’s defects was that he was missing his right arm. This name seemed fitting for us, because he will always be remembered in glory in our hearts and spirits.

I know in time the words will flow more freely. I will be able to open up more about him. I know there will be a time when I look back on this and not feel a sharp sting, but a dull ache.

I know that when I look at Idan, I will often think about all the memories that will not be made with a new little brother, but mostly replaced with “what ifs.”

I know that when Idan plays in the sand, runs in the grass, falls to the ground and stares up at the clouds, his little brother will be there right next to him in spirit, instead of a broken body.

I know that this little soul was more loved in his 16 weeks than many people have in their entire lifetime, and I am happy that I could give him this small gift. My little one has known no suffering, sadness or pain, only my love and the beating of my heart to his.

I pray that he will come back to me in a body that can contain his heavenly spirit, and if not, I have promised him that I will live my life with happiness, joy, compassion and humility, and know that when my time comes, he will be there to greet me, hand in hand with Cora, and I will wrap my arms around them and say “Hello, I am your mom, and I have loved you my whole life.”

To Tyr:

“I wanted you more than you will ever know, so I sent love to follow wherever you go.”